


A Condition Of Complete Simplicity (Costing Not Less Than Everything)

by stardust_in_the_wind



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Bliss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Knitting, Lonely!Martin, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post MAG 159 Pre MAG 160, Sharing a Bed, Spider (briefly mentioned), breakfast making, jon knits, kind of, safehouse fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_in_the_wind/pseuds/stardust_in_the_wind
Summary: Post MAG 159 pre MAG 160, y'all already know what's upBasically just a collection of cute things I wanted to happen in the safehouse woven up into a little fic
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	A Condition Of Complete Simplicity (Costing Not Less Than Everything)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from T.S. Eliot's "The Little Gidding"  
> (if you read my other tma fic. i just really love eliot okay)

Martin doesn’t say much as they drive through the pastoral idyll of the Scottish highlands towards Daisy’s safehouse. Jon doesn’t either, not wanting to press, or somehow accidentally compel Martin to talk. So he stares at the road ahead and Martin stares out the window. 

It doesn’t take long to bring what little they packed into the house, and they quickly move on to scoping the place out. It looks… surprisingly comfortable, considering it used to be Daisy’s, if a bit dusty. The only problem is the bedroom. 

Jon and Martin both just stare at the bed for a moment. As in, bed, _singular_. 

“I’ll just take the sofa, then,” Martin says. 

“No, no, you’re too tall for that,” Jon immediately protests. “You take the bed.”

“Jon, the least I can do is let you sleep in the bed, I’ll be fine.”

Jon resists the urge to sigh in exasperation at how even now, Martin’s still too nice for his own good. “We could… share it,” he says hesitantly. “It’s big enough for the both of us.”

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. He wouldn’t blame Jon for being uncomfortable with that, after what he’d confessed in the Lonely. 

“Yes, I’m sure, Martin.”

*****

They go out to the village to buy essentials, and it feels surprisingly _normal_ , picking produce and soap and snacks. Martin puts Jon’s favorite brand of biscuits into the cart without asking. He always was the one to remember those little details about people, and Jon realizes with a pang he doesn’t even know when Martin’s birthday is. 

Neither of them really has the energy to make a proper dinner by the time they get back, so they end up opening some of the snacks while a nature documentary plays tinnily on the ancient television set. Martin’s still quiet, and Jon doesn't really know what to say, so the only sound is the narrator droning on about rainforests. It’s… comfortable. Jon almost forgets they’re on the run.

*****

 _This shouldn’t be scary_ , Jon thinks. He and Martin have survived _multiple_ near-death experiences together; sharing a bed shouldn’t even faze him. Still, Jon can’t help but feel awkward as he climbs into the bed beside Martin, maintaining a polite distance between them. 

“Goodnight, Martin.”

“Oh,” Martin says, faintly surprised. “You too.”

Martin wakes up in a cold sweat to a still-dark room, and for a horrifying moment he thinks he’s dreaming, he’s still in the Lonely with no one in sight and no colors except muted grays. 

Jon mumbles something in his sleep.

 _No, you’re not there anymore_ , Martin reminds himself. _Jon got you out_.

*****

The bed is cold and empty when Jon wakes up. He straightens with a jolt, mind already racing with worst-case scenarios of what could’ve happened to Martin, when he hears the sounds of cooking from the kitchen and his panic subsides. 

Martin hums quietly to himself as he sets two plates on the table, seemingly unaware that he isn’t alone. He jumps when he notices Jon in the doorway. 

“How long have you been there?” he asks, not angrily, just matter-of-fact.

“Uh… not long. Just saw you put the plates down,” Jon stammers, and Martin seems to relax a bit. 

“Oh, okay…” he trails off, and then suddenly remembers himself. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Yes, that’d be lovely,” Jon says, sitting down. “Thank you, Martin.”

“It’s no problem, really, it’s just eggs and toast,” Martin responds, but there’s a small smile on his face. It’s a tiny victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

*****

The afternoon is warm and sleepy, and for once, there’s nothing urgent that needs doing. Martin idly flips through one of the paperbacks he’d found lying around, and Jon knits. His grandmother had taught him, and Jon resented it at first, swearing it off as soon as he moved out. It was only after the Prentiss attack he picked it back up, the repetitive motions and slow steadiness of it strangely soothing when nothing else was. Martin casts him a questioning glance when he first takes it out, but doesn’t remark on it, which Jon is grateful for.

He’s working on a scarf whose pattern promises a rib effect without any purl stitches, and though he was doubtful of that claim, it’s actually coming out quite nicely. The yarn is a soft green, and Jon has the absurd thought that it’d bring out Martin’s eyes. No, wait, that’s weird. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and keeps knitting. 

It takes a valiant effort for Jon not to bolt when he notices the spider crawling slowly up the armrest of his chair. Instead, he very calmly stands up and moves across the room. The only indicator that he’s panicking is how white his knuckles are, tightly gripping the needles. 

“Are you alright?” Martin asks worriedly. 

“Yes,” Jon grits out. “There’s just… there’s a, ah…” He points toward the chair. Martin looks at it, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until he lights on the spider. He carefully lets it crawl onto his hand (Jon shudders a bit, but thankfully Martin doesn’t seem to notice), and brings it outside. 

Jon’s death grip on the scarf relaxes slightly when Martin returns, his empty hands in plain view. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“No problem at all,” Martin replies. 

*****

Martin dreams of the Lonely again. He jerks awake, and once again repeats to himself that he’s not there anymore, he’s not there anymore. He scrubs his hands down his face, hoping the sensation will help to bring him back. 

He must have been too loud though, because Jon sits up and blearily asks, “Martin?”

“Oh, no, sorry for waking you, it’s really nothing,” Martin rambles, a wave of hot shame washing over him. But Jon doesn’t lie back down. 

“Martin, it’s not _nothing_ ,” Jon says, as gently as he can, but doesn’t ask any questions. He’d never forgive himself if he somehow compelled Martin’s experiences out of him. Jon simply looks at him, an invitation rather than coercion. 

Martin spends a moment looking for the words. “It’s just… I have nightmares, sometimes,” he starts. “Of the Lonely.” Jon watches him intently, but without judgement. Martin can’t meet his eyes, staring down at the blanket instead. “It’s not even anything _scary_ , just gray and cold, but it’s hard to remember that I’m not still there.” 

There’s a pause as Jon tries to figure out how to respond, the only sounds their breathing and the quiet tick of the wall clock.

“Martin, look at me,” Jon says, breaking the silence. “You worked for Lukas for months, and it’s only been a few days since…” he trails off. “My point is, it’s alright if you need time to recover. But I’ll be here, if you need me.” Martin blinks very hard to try and hide the tears in his eyes. 

“I… thank you, Jon,” he chokes out over the lump in his throat. 

Jon places a tentative hand on Martin’s shoulder, and when Martin doesn’t push him away, starts rubbing gentle circles. Martin gives him a watery smile. They stay like that for a while, sitting together in the dark, until they eventually fall back asleep, still holding onto each other. 

*****

Jon works on the scarf at an almost feverish pace now, and it’s done in two days. When he offers it to Martin, he beams so brightly you would’ve thought Jon hung the moon and puts it on immediately. Jon was right earlier, it does bring out his eyes. He sees Martin running his fingers over the stitches a few times, a tangible reminder that he’s not alone anymore. The Lonely can’t take him back, because somebody cares. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://www.purlsoho.com/create/2014/09/12/no-purl-ribbed-scarf/) is the scarf pattern that Jon uses. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think in the comments


End file.
